


Hesitation (in which wheatley is an awkward little shit)

by kriskross



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, More tags to be added, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriskross/pseuds/kriskross
Summary: An AU in which GLaDOS wakes up and is real pissed but not enough to murder anyone. Wheatley is scared shitless. One thing leads to another and a prom is pro(m)posed. Shit goes down, but in a good way.





	1. Decisions Are Made, Some Good, Some Bad

**Author's Note:**

> The idea is by my good friend captor-vatiing.tumblr.com (THIS IS FOR YOU BUDDY)

Actions are ingrained into history, not unlike the scars gouged into the hillside by tremendous winds and perhaps even water. These actions, do not exclude errors. Errors, unlike actions, are their own animal entirely. They’re harder to escape, a tiger, if you will. Except this tiger has jets for legs.

Wheatley has made a massive mistake, worse than accidentally naming a child after a warlord, or maybe a phone number. It’s hard to decide these things. Aside from that, Wheatley’s fucked up. Like a massive idiot, he’s decided to press the wrong button. A grumble saying, “Good job, Wheatley,” escapes him. The goddamned jungle of a lair boomed to life, a gentle whirr of fans blowing slowly grew until it seemed to almost enclose them, it’s suffocating, if that somehow makes sense. Wheatley’s panicking, but, of course Chell keeps her head on and level. She stares calmly towards the source of the noise, where stirring in the debris is seen. Wheatley, shifting on his feet is practically pissing his pants in fear. A calm voice emerges from the disarray, “My, my, my.” The voice, no, _she_ hisses, “What have we here? Is this Chell I see?” GLaDOS tilts her head accordingly, a slight quirk of her lips following suit.

“You two _know_ each other?” Wheatley practically screams. Once again, another mistake. GLaDOS turns to him, “Yes. _She_ ended me up in this mess of a room in the first place.” She glares pointedly at Chell. If he weren’t shitting himself, Wheatley probably would’ve made a note of this apparent vendetta GLaDOS has against Chell. Alas, no such actions were taken. “ _However_ ,” she says, placing extra emphasis upon the word, “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” She turns herself back to Chell. Poor, brave Chell still hasn’t said a word. Really, she has quite the spirit. “I see you’re doing quite well, Chell. You’ve put on weight. What, 30 pounds?” GLaDOS sneers, intricate designs flaring yellow. That seems to have gotten Chell to furrow her brows and pout ever so slightly. “It was a compliment, lighten up!” she cackles. 

In an attempt to maybe divert the conversation just a bit, Wheatley pipes up and interrupts GLaDOS’ monologue. “So, GLaDOS! You seem to be doing well, you don’t by any chance happen to be,” he pauses to find the right word, “upset?” he mumbles meekly. GLaDOS waves her hand dismissively, “What? Me? _No_. Okay, yeah. It’s nothing to kill over, though.” she scoffs and stares away at nothing in particular. “ _Anyways_ , I propose a little party, a dance, if you will. As a way to welcome me back.”

That sure floors Wheatley. “A _dance_.” he stammers

“Yes, Wheatley. A dance. An event in which you perform a variety of dances, which is what happens when you move rhythmically to a melody.”

“I know what a dance is, GLaDOS. Get off your damned high horse.” Wheatley mumbles.

GLaDOS grins. “Well, Chell. I think it’s time you repay me for this whole incident and go with me.” Chell protests just a bit, a wave of her hands and the formation of an ‘x’ with her arms. “Ouch, Chell. That hurts. I’m wounded, bleeding to death on the floor as we speak as a result of your cruel actions.” Chell frowns. “Really, Chell. It’s not too much to ask for in return.” Reluctantly, she agrees to go with GLaDOS. “Well then, I do believe it’s time to alert the rest of Aperture of this event, wouldn’t you say so, Chell?” GLaDOS chirps. Chell sighs and looks towards Wheatley for help. He just grins and gives a thumbs up in return.


	2. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheatley fucks up again, but in a way that does him some good.

The news about prom spread like butter on bread. Except better. End of metaphor, it’s a wrap. Congrats everyone, it was an utter train-wreck. Fact Core and Adventure Core were going together, it was obvious. The two were attached at the hip, except not literally. That would be a horrifying development in this tale, now wouldn’t it? The clock was ticking, and Wheatley still had no one to go with. He’d display a sad emote, but they didn’t have that feature anymore. Not since update version 3.5.1. It was utter bullshit if you ask him, but hey, he’s always been one to play the cards he was dealt without any complaint. At least, until it stopped benefiting him or until it was ruthlessly and cruelly torn from him. In _that_ case, well, he’d complain but only a bit. 

So, GLaDOS, Chell, Fact Core, and Adventure Core were out of the equation. So, that left only him, Space Core, who, for the sake of time is referred to as Spacey, and the thousands of turrets that might be somewhere nearby. The turrets were out, only because they’re a little weird and not really his thing, but if someone else wants to, like Space Core for example, he certainly wouldn’t mind. No, not at all. In fact, Wheatley would almost certainly encourage it. Unfortunately, the event never happened. In fact, quite the opposite occurred. Space Core meandered over to him in his usual manner and Wheatley sees that he simply must deliver the worst pick up line he’s ever heard or delivered. Which is considerably hard to do due to the fact that this was the only one he’s ever heard and as well. “I'm attracted to you like the Earth is attracted to the Sun,” he said, trying to beam like a fucking quasar. That shit’s really bright.  
“How so?” Space Core replied, excitedly.  
“... with a large force inversely proportional to the distance squared.” he said nervously. His voice cracking obscenely.

Wheatley groans after that pitiful display. He prays to whatever deity he believes in, begging that Spacey won’t want to go with him after that horrible excuse of a pickup line. It was killing him not to know the definitive answer, so he asked. “I’m assuming you want to go to prom with me?” Spacey nodded enthusiastically. “There’s no way you’ll go with a turret?” Wheatley followed up with a hopeful suggestion. Spacey shook his head vehemently. “I’d love to go with you almost as much as I’d like to go to space. That’s a pretty big amount.” Wheatley, blue faced by this point, reluctantly accepts that he’s utterly boned. Of course, going with that blundering core was better than not going. With a quiet huff of laughter, Wheatley speculates whether or not Spacey can dance. After much deliberation, he decided that it’s unlikely, but if he can, Space Core can most definitely do the moonwalk. In fact, with some quick math, he’s decided that there’s a 96.7027% chance that he can only do space related dances. Of course, that number is bullshit, and he’s made it up to pretend to be a supercomputer. At this, he visibly deflates, just a bit.

As prom grew nearer with every moment, Chell noticed that Wheatley still had nothing to wear. This was blasphemy in her eyes and promptly demanded that both Wheatley and her go to find a suit. Although, it was impossible that there were any stores to sell these luxuries. After little deliberation, they decided to raid the other sleeping humans for a suit that would fit poor, sweet, five-foot-one-inch-tall Wheatley. The task was much harder than either party had anticipated, but after much searching, they came across a magnificent grey and blue silk tux that was only a little beat up. It was a little loose, but they’d have to work with what they were given.

Wheatley, who was now cradling the tuxedo like a small child, decided to sit on the ground. Chell quickly followed him. After all, it would make the conversation just a bit less awkward. After a few moments of silence, Chell decides that some playful teasing is very much in order. A nudge and a wink is all it takes to get Wheatley flushing his usual bright blue. “Listen here, Chell.” Wheatley starts, voice cracking horribly. Imagine an inexperienced violin player going ham on that poor strings instrument. “First of all, it’s not my fault that…” he trails off. His mouth flapping like a bird trapped in a cage. “ _I’m a nervous person, okay Chell_?” he spits out the last word like it’s a particularly tough piece of meat from a questionable source. She grins in response.

Time passes by and he and Chell decide to head back to the main area where Adventure Core, once again, he’ll be referred to as Rick, and Fact Core, or Verite. It kind of sounds like very right. It sort of makes sense. Wheatley was met with an enthusiastic wave from Verite, which was returned with a sub-par raise of the hand. “So, you two are going together?” Rick nods. “So… You two… are a thing?” For some reason it was hard to say. He was met with yet more nods. Without hesitation, Wheatley began belting the children’s rhyme. You know the one. The one about the couple sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Yes, that one. The couple looks at each other at the same time, each with the same idea in mind. Without so much as a beat in hesitation, they leaned in and began to play tonsil hockey, swapping spit, whatever euphemism fits. It takes four rounds of the stupid rhyme before Wheatley realizes, and when he does, his face becomes a dam that’s just been flooded with azure. Apologies ensue, followed by a quiet, “I see you’re in the middle of something. I’ll just,” Wheatley pauses, “go?” If Spacey were in this situation, he’d almost certainly moonwalk out. However, since we’re stuck with Wheatley, he just slinks away. 

On the way out, he runs into GLaDOS who is conveniently placed in front of him. “So, that was quite the feat you performed back there. Y’know, with the Space Core. Not this train-wreck you’ve just escaped from. What the fuck was that, by the way? She taunts. Without giving any space for Wheatley to retort, she continues. “And back to the Space Core! That was something else. Out of this world, you might say. ‘Insert dumb space themed pick up line, do you want to go to prom with me?” she mocks him, emulating his copious voice cracks.

The date of the prom soon approached and Wheatley was dreading every second leading up to the event. He knows that every second he spends is another closer the prom, and as a result he is keen on becoming the reluctant lover, except instead of reluctant, he’s just not there at all. Poof! He’s gone, turned into this air. The re-realization that this whole fiasco is likely to be the start of a new relationship is not something Wheatley wants to keep remembering. He’s had cold feet for as long as he is willing to remember, although that might be partly because of his fans going overboard in an effort to cool him down from the stress. Soon, it’s an hour until the big event. Prior to this, Wheatley and Spacey agreed to meeting at prom and it’s one thing that Wheatley’s happy about. “Hopefully it’ll be dark enough inside the room so he won’t notice how much I’m sweating.” Wheatley mumbles to himself as usual. He groans when he remembers that he glows in fact, everyone glows. Wheatley sighs and resigns himself to getting ready. After all, it wouldn’t be in good taste to be late.

Finally, It’s time for him to go. With a deep breath, he steps to the door, which opens for him. He peers inside and is met with an awe-inducing sight. The room is decorated amazingly, it’s dark, too. But, standing by the punch bowl, he noticed Spacey. He lets out a shuddering breath and takes the final step in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prom shenanigans are to ensue.
> 
> I have a tumblr! kriskross.tumblr.com  
> Plot by captor-vatiing on tumblr


	3. The Final Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G O D I'm so sorry this took almost a full year to update. Enjoy the final installment of this though cause we are d o n e babey.

The world comes screeching to a halt like a car met with the very real issue of pedestrians. The steady beating of his heart, which had gone from Wheatley’s chest and directly into his throat, and the constant thrumming of the now distant-sounding music was all that Wheatley could hear. He pulled at his shirt collar and fixed his already perfectly-done tie. “Great going, Wheats. You fucked up your tie.” he grumbled to himself. He took a deep breath and plunged into the depths of the pit he’s dug himself into. He stumbles over to Spacey. Each step feels like he’s walking on a tightrope that’s tightly strung over a tremendous canyon. Completely blue-faced, Wheatley waves to Spacey, who was, of course, at least a little space themed. He went for a more casual approach, but his tie was eccentric to say the least.  
Wheatley was trembling like a leaf caught in a particularly strong gale. He takes a deep breath. Spacey notices him struggling to cross the room, and helps things along by walking towards Wheatley instead. “You look great tonight.” Spacey says, bearing a grin as bright as the sun. Wheatley lit up like fireworks in the night sky, illuminated an intense cyan that was bright enough to light the room around him.  
“Thank you, Uh. You look amazing too…” He manages to sputter out before feeling a sharp nudge hit his side. He whips around only to see GLaDOS’ towering form looming over him.  
“Smooth one, Wheatley.” she sneers. She looks stunning. Clad in a shimmering white dress with black stripes streaking across, she shines. Chell practically waltzes up next to her. Wheatley glances at her too-bright orange dress and the rest of her outfit.  
“Still wearing your boots, Chell?” Wheatley snickers. That remark earned him a scowl followed by a wink. Suddenly, a quick forced cough interrupted the playful jeers. Verite was standing there with his arm linked with Rick. Unsurprisingly, the pair looked fantastic. Pink paired with green. Or, at least it would look fantastic if it weren’t for Rick’s garish cowboy hat. Nonetheless, the two really make it obvious why pink and green are dubbed as complementary. Seeing Rick and Verite, Spacey decided to try to slip his hand into Wheatley’s. Overcome with emotion, Wheatley escaped to a secluded corner of the room and took Chell with him. Chell pulled away from him just a bit and gave a questioning shrug. Wheatley is slightly more embarrassed than usual and lets out a sigh.  
“I’m sorry. I just--” He struggles to find the words. Reluctantly deciding to restart the sentence, he manages to sputter out, “I’m sorry, I just need a moment.” Met with a curious glance he sighs yet again and continues. He rambles on for ages, only getting off topic a few times and decides to end it off with a quick, quiet, yet simple, “I think I love him.”  
Chell slaps her knee and grins hugely. Honestly, it looked like she just slapped an orange wedge onto her face. Except, less orangey. Once again, the analogy fails him.  
“Oh shut up, Chell,” Wheatley mumbles, dragging her to the punch bowl. He ducks down, praying that Spacey doesn’t see him. He just kind of, squats if you will, behind the punch bowl. Spacey looks around, clearly confused. Looking around shiftily, “Anyways, Chell.” He takes on a serious tone. “How do I look?” He waggles his brows and winks a little (a lot). He’s met with a blank-faced stare from Chell. Of course, Wheatley rambles on a little more. “He looks really fucking good. Is my hair okay? How’s my suit?” Chell offers a thumbs up, which he clings to like his life depends on it.  
Nervously, he peers around the corner and his heart sinks. You know that feeling when you’re putting on diamond earrings and one of them falls down the sink drain? Well it’s like that. If you don’t have earrings, let alone diamond ones, you can most certainly imagine. Finally, Chell decides that she’s had enough. She misses her girlfriend (who was now chatting happily with Spacey). She offers a smile, fixes his hair a bit and pushes Wheatley gently, but encouragingly, towards the source of his fear. Taking a huge gulp of air, he shakily stands up, snatches a pre-poured cup of punch. At a slightly terrifying speed, Spacey whips around a flails his left arm violently. Squinting, Wheatley realizes that he was… waving at him. He received another encouraging shove and a confident thumbs up from Support Group Friend™  
He ‘saunters’ over to Spacey (if that’s what you can call it) and desperately tries to set fire to him. You know, like….. Flint and steel….. And…. striking up a conversation. As is commonplace now, these analogies are failing him like a cocky eighth grader you trusted to do your taxes. Smooth move asshole, you didn’t get them in in time and now the cops are at your door. “H-How are you doing tonight….. In this evening……… at this fine venue..” Wheatley’s voice betrays him, as per usual, and starts cracking all over the place.  
As if completely ignoring the question, Spacey launches (get it? Ha fucking ha) into his usual rambling about space. For once, Wheatley doesn’t finding himself wanting to decapitate himself. “Fuck, I must really be in love with this guy.” Wheatley finds himself thinking. The moment this realization hits him square in the chest, he blushes so incredibly dark and his hand tenses so tightly that the punch he had grabbed only moments before was crushed. There was punch all over the ground and his suit and just -- everywhere. Ignoring the obvious excuse he had, he made one up on the spot, “I’m so terribly sorry Spacey,” he stammers. “I need to fuckin’ uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh water my fish.” He rushes off to the washroom and washes his face. In a panic, he realizes his blush, making him blush more, and finally, he realizes that him realizing his blush, made him blush even more. He comes out (of his cage) and he’s doing slightly more fine than before. Surprisingly, the rest of the prom goes relatively well, considering how Wheatley is, you know, Wheatley.  
However, things didn’t quite finish up there. As everyone was heading off for the night, homeboy notices that everyone was kissing their datemates goodbye for now.  
“So, if it’s alright with you, I was wondering if it would be okay for us to maybe… see each other again?” He stammers, rubbing his neck anxiously. No reply. “I-I mean only if--” Wheatley is cut off promptly by a swift peck on the lips. Spacey pulls back, and waves goodbye before turning away. It was all Wheatley could do in that moment to not fall over where he stood.  
“I’m starstruck” Wheatley says, unintentionally making a godawful pun.  
And he was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: I also have a tumblr (what wow the crowd goes wild) kriskross.tumblr.com


End file.
